Squawk
by KarToon12
Summary: Robert Muldoon knew he was signing up for a lot when he decided to return to Jurassic Park...he did NOT sign up for a friendly raptor to get attached to him. (An AU in which Muldoon survived the first movie and is now a part time warden/full time advisor at Jurassic World.)


**Okay, so I realize this is probably going to be one of the longest author note/intros you read before a story, but you NEED to know this going in. So one of my friends who goes by the name "cheetahtrout" on deviantArt and Tumblr (and also has a second Tumblr blog called "chaosorganizer") created this alternate universe where Muldoon didn't die in the raptor attack (like what actually happened to him in the JP novel). As such, he's alive to see Jurassic World come to fruition, and stays there at the park to basically act as a consultant. (In the "I don't like this, but since I'm the only one here with any sense, I'm going to make sure you all don't screw up again" kind of way.) He has a decent rapport with most of the staff, though the only one he kind of really calls a close friend is Owen, and has taken to being a guardian figure of sorts for him. For various reasons, Muldoon has spruced up the old visitor center a bit (at least enough to make it habitable), and lives there.**

 **The other noteworthy creation of Cheetahtrout is Squeaks and Squawk-a** **dilophosaur and scientifically-accurate velociraptor, respectfully. Both of them are tiny, adorable, and completely friendly, and have become Muldoon's pets/companions. You can check out her pages on deviantArt and Tumblr to see all her awesome artwork of these two. Squeaks already came with an origin story, which boils down to "Robert noticed the runt of the litter was the most well behaved and harmless, so he took it in and raised it". But after seeing a bunch of pictures of Robert with a tiny, fluffy raptor, I asked what the backstory for Squawk was, and upon finding there wasn't any, I decided to pen the story myself, which you're about to read below.**

 **So, without further ado, join me in this strange alternate reality where Muldoon is alive, is total bros with Owen, sets up camp in the visitor center, has two tiny dinosaurs for pets, and Jurassic World is a perfectly fine and dandy theme park with everything running smoothly (for the most part). Past characters from the previous films (most notably Sarah Harding) also work and/or lend their expertise to the park. I loved this little sandbox that cheetahtrout made where all the characters could feasibly interact with each other, and this was my one noteworthy attempt at playing in it.**

 **Final note: this was written back when "Jurassic World" came out. I found a bunch of old drabbles sitting on my hard drive and decided to dust them off and post them now that "Fallen Kingdom" has premiered.**

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"You must be joking."

"That's what I said."

Both the raptor trainer and his elder companion found themselves staring into the brand new paddock-trying to make heads or tails of the creatures inside. It wasn't too often that the park got new additions to their dinosaur roster. So when the science team announced the creation of a brand new dinosaur all together ("new", as in, a breed they had yet to carry or feature), all the supervisors and senior staff was required to come and review the new arrivals. Not that anyone needed much prodding-the first few days, everyone was excitedly stopping by the pen...and soon, word began spreading through the grapevine-whispers of "overgrown chickens", and "those CAN'T be raptors."

The word "raptor" obviously got Owen's attention, and he wasted no time in taking a gander for himself...then promptly ran off to grab Muldoon when he found out what they were. Pretty soon, he and Robert were keeping pace with each other as they finally arrived at the new enclosure that didn't look much different from the pen that housed the raptor squad-save for the lack of an above head catwalk.

...and were met with the sight of five cute and fuzzy fluffballs just a tad smaller than a basketball. The game warden turned to Sarah Harding, who was also there-busily jotting down notes. He felt like an idiot for having to ask, but frankly, these were like no dinosaurs he'd ever seen before...if they even WERE dinosaurs.

...and when he spoke the big question of "they're cute, but...what are they?" , Sarah grinned and answered rather frankly, "They're velociraptors."

Which led to the current moment of both handlers blinking at the strange creatures-open mouthed and totally befuddled; wondering if they heard her right.

When they didn't say anything, the vet gave them an explanation, "Apparently, Dr. Grant and Dr. Sattler released a bunch of new research papers about some recent discoveries they made during their travels. Turns out that more than a few theories as to the actual appearance of certain species of extinct mammals were inaccurate. So, considering that we have a ton of paleontologists coming here for research purposes, the big wigs thought it would be best to try and create more 'scientifically accurate' dinosaurs."

She pointed into the pen, "It took having to combine the DNA of vultures and turkeys to complete the fossilized genes, but...THOSE are velociraptors."

They all stared into the enclosure; watching five birds no bigger than chickens waddling around. Their clawed feet was about the only familiar appendage; the rest looked like a weird combination of a vulture head, but with a wild turkey's body, and a long, fuzzy tail with a tuft of feathers on the tip that made them look more like feather DUSTERS with claws.

Owen would never admit to being jealous, but he couldn't help the slight disappointment in his tone as he wondered out loud, "Then...what does that make my squad, then?

"I would say Blue and the girls are more closely related to the recently discovered 'utahraptor'-in size, at least", Sarah shrugged. Upon noticing Owen's frustrated expression, she added, "Don't worry; your squad is still the 'coolest'..." She made air quotes with her fingers and good naturedly winced, "...we just might have to tweak the name of the exhibit."

The trainer folded his arms, "OR we could just call 'em 'raptors'..."

Muldoon, on the other hand, had walked right up to the fence; his concern outwardly obvious. He didn't much care what the creatures looked like. Anything that had the word "raptor" in the name was bound to be trouble. And he knew first hand that sometimes, the cutest things turned out to be the most deadly. His eyes narrowed in suspicion as he asked without turning, "How big will they get?"

Harding checked her notes, "Hard to say exactly, since we've never bred them before-not like this, anyway. But between the skeletons that've been found, and the birds that were used to complete the genetic code, we're certain they should only get to be about four feet long-six feet maximum, and that's mostly accounting for the tail. As for height...about...two feet."

"So...that's it, huh?" Owen couldn't hide his incredulousness. Not that anyone wanted another pack of toothy killing machines, but...'velociraptor' just seemed like such a tough and scary sounding name...and THIS is all they really were? A bunch of overgrown, prehistoric turkeys? At least he now partially understood why everyone was throwing giggle fits lately.

Robert, however, refused to let his guard down, "Who's in charge of them?"

"Mr. Neill", Sarah pointed to a man entering the pen from the opposite end-a bucket in hand, "He just transferred here from a zoo in New Zealand. He wasn't here for the hatching, but he's been watching them since they were a week old. We're hoping they'll imprint on him in the coming month." As the man drew closer, Harding called out, "Hey, Sam!"

Mr. Neill smiled and waved before coming over, with the fence being the only thing standing between him and the trio, "Morning, Dr. Harding."

Sarah was quick to make introductions, "Sam, this is Owen Grady, our...um...OTHER velociraptor trainer."

"Yeah, the cooler one", Owen quipped, though his tone made it clear he was only joking.

Mr. Neill laughed, "Ah, yes; the staff's told me ALL about you. If I need any advice, I'll be sure to call you first. Something tells me these ladies might be a handful."

"If they're anything like my squad, that's putting it mildly", the trainer shook his head, before motioning to his friend, "If you really need help, though, you should probably talk to HIM. This is Robert Muldoon, our game warden."

Sam's eyes lit up, "So YOU'RE the famous hunter I've heard so much about. Pleasure to meet you, sir. I'd shake your hand, but...well..." He waved at the fence dividing them for emphasis.

The warden couldn't muster a full smile, but nodded as a 'hello', "Thanks, I'm flattered. But you don't have to go puttin' me on a pedestal. These days, I'm more of an advisor, really..." He then leaned in; staring Sam dead in the eye; his voice exuding nothing but full on seriousness and a dire warning, "...and as my first advice to you-be on your guard. At all times. Feathers or no feathers, these girls can be clever. VERY clever...at the first sign of ANY trouble, you tell me right away...understand?"

Mr. Neill seemed a bit put off at Robert's intensity, but nodded, "Of course. Sure thing."

Satisfied that the man was clear on his orders, the warden stepped aside so he could examine the pen some more. As soon as he backed off, Sam whispered to Owen, "What's his problem? Did I do something wrong?"

Grady sadly shook his head and mumbled, "No, just...we'll tell ya' later..."

Muldoon, however, was less interested in what Owen and Sam were going on about, and more in scrutinizing the fuzzy raptors. Out of the five, four of them were clustered together; the biggest one keeping watch over the group-sporting red feathers that were so dark, they were almost black. Her three mid-size companions stuck out by comparison-all showing off their golden yellow bodies that gleamed in the sunlight. Robert was so engrossed in watching them, he almost didn't hear Mr. Neill whistle and call out, "Okay everyone! Breakfast!"

With that, he calmly walked over to the pack and set down the bucket he was carrying; revealing it to be full of freshly cut hamburger meat. Immediately, the four prehistoric birds stuck their heads in in a frenzy; pecking at the meat as if food would never come again. Sam tried not to laugh as he explained to his superiors, "In the next few weeks, we'll move them up to hunting on their own. But for now, they're pretty happy when they see me coming with the bucket. As long as they're fed, they won't bother you much."

"Famous last words..." Robert thought to himself...until something peculiar caught his eye.

Off to the side, sitting lazily in a corner, was the fifth and final raptor. The first thing that immediately stuck out about her was how she nearly blended in with the ground-her body a muted brown, with a white belly and chocolate colored beak. One could definitely see the vulture comparisons in the others...but THIS one looked the most like a Thanksgiving turkey, at least in her colors. And when she decided to get up and stretch, the other thing that became apparent was her size..so small and petite...

And while her four sisters were totally engrossed in their feeding, this tiny one seemed to barely even notice or care. Instead, she began wandering away from the group; scratching and sniffing at the ground-exploring all the corners of the pen (that was accessible, anyway). Until eventually, her attention turned to the group of human onlookers, to which she tentatively waddled over, as if she were wondering what they were all babbling about.

Sam went over to check on the flock, but not before chuckling, "Well, looks like one wanted to come over and say 'hi'."

The Tiny One blinked impassively at Sarah, who gave her a friendly wave. Owen was much braver and dared to put his hand close to the bars so she could smell him. But only a few sniffs later, she promptly sneezed and backed off. No doubt she caught a wiff of the raptor squad on him and turned her head away, as if saying, "you stink like my big, scary cousins-no thank you."

But the moment she came to face Muldoon, she instantly stopped in her tracks; locking eyes with the warden and staring at him for, what seemed like, a very long and strange moment. Robert made sure to not make any sudden moves, yet inwardly, he was taken aback at how the small, feathered beast was examining him...from nearly all angles, as she turned her head every which way, even upside down.

Beads of sweat began forming at the edge between his forehead and hat. Images of the Big One gleefully sizing him up to eat, with those fear-inducing yellow slits for eyes, flashed across his vision for a second, forcing him to have to get a hold of himself. That was then...this was now...and right now, this weird looking chicken that most certainly was NOT the Big One was blinking at him with a pair of unassuming, unthreatening, beady black eyes...as if she found the sight of him just as curious as he did to her.

By then, Muldoon was becoming uncomfortable, and finally spoke, "Well...what're YOU lookin' at, ya' ankle biter?"

He didn't exactly mean for his tone to come out as snippy as it did. And the Tiny One didn't seem to notice or care. Instead, she fluffed up what feathers she had, and let out a rather loud and happy sounding, "SQUAWWK!"

All three humans jumped at the noise; not expecting such a powerful call to come out of such a small being.

The moment was finally broken when Mr. Neill whistled and pointed at the rest of the pack, "Better hurry there, honey, or you won't get any!"

The Tiny One, at long last, swiveled her head towards her handler, and upon spotting the rest of her sisters eating, she bounced over, as if saying, "oh yeah, food!" , and scrambled to make sure she got a share of the meat. Sam waved to his co-workers; the strange encounter clearly over, "I'll be sure to stay in touch with you guys. Stop by whenever you want."

"Okay. Later, man!" Owen called back, before putting his hands in his pockets and sauntering away, "Come on, guys-let's go see the REAL velociraptors."

Sarah rolled her eyes before following him, with Muldoon bringing up the rear...but as they got farther away from the pen, the game warden couldn't help but steal one more concerned glance over his shoulder. The Tiny One-the one that seemed so fascinated with him for some reason-was slowly creeping towards the food pail; trying to figure out where she could squeeze in and start snacking...

...evidently, the big, reddish-black one didn't take too kindly to the invasive move, and quickly puffed herself out as much as she could; hissing an angry screech that immediately scared the smaller raptor away. The Tiny One skittered over to the opposite corner; sitting down and watching her siblings eat in a sad silence.

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For the next few weeks, Robert frequented the enclosure-checking in with Sam on the raptors' growth and progress nearly every day. A part of him hated to be seen as a bit paranoid, but all things considered, he had every right to be, and thankfully Owen and the staff he was more personal with clearly understood. And Mr. Neill didn't mind all the questions. In fact, he actually welcomed them, since the warden came up with ideas he would've never considered, like how each raptor acted, or if there were any weaknesses in the fences, or were there enough cameras watching their every move.

And one day, Sam came to HIM with a few questions of his own.

By that time, a month had gone by, and a few look out points had been built for the staff to watch the raptors from overhead (and not just from a security camera). Muldoon found Mr. Neill perched on one of the platforms one afternoon; gazing down into the enclosure with a grave look to his eye. The warden noticed his grim demeanor, but said casually, "You rang?"

Without turning, Sam flatly stated, "We got a tiny problem."

The handler motioned to the mounted pair of binoculars set up on the podium. Robert took the cue and peeked through the spy glass; spotting each of the raptors one by one as they wandered around their territory, which had greatly expanded over the past month. And they had definitely gotten bigger. Granted, they still had some growing to do, but for the most part, they now appeared pretty much like the pictures in the text books-fully feathered, and most likely ready to hunt on their own.

As he silently observed the pack walking around together, Sam replied, "The Tiny One isn't eating."

Muldoon finally glanced over at the handler, "I take it they've moved on from the bucket?"

Mr. Neill nodded, "Yep. I send out dozens of mice and chickens, and they catch it themselves now...except for one."

The game warden peeked into the viewfinder again; observing the pack chasing after a rather fat hen...and much like when he first met them, one was curiously absent from the group. It took him a few seconds, but eventually, he spotted the familiar brown and white feathers of the Tiny One. She almost looked like a loaf of bread as she sat in an inconspicuous clearing all curled up-apparently sleeping. Robert watched her with growing interest as Sam explained, "That big black and red one has definitely become the alpha...and supposedly, she doesn't care for the Tiny One that much. The few hunts that the little one goes on with them, the red one won't let her have any shares at all. And I guess the Tiny One's taken the hint and stays out of their way. It seems the only time she gets to snack is when she hunts on her own, and that's only after I throw in a hen to keep the others distracted while I toss her some mice." He finally turned to the warden, "I don't know what to do."

"It's the way nature is", Muldoon said simply, "Survival of the fittest."

"I know", Mr. Neill shook his head, "But try telling that to the bosses. We can't just let her die." He scratched his chin, "Funny how she doesn't seem to click with the others...when she IS active, she seems perfectly content to just run around and do her own thing. You can always find her patrolling the fence...and she doesn't seem too bothered by the workers that pass through." He let out a sigh, "I feel bad for her...out of the whole group, she's definitely the friendliest."

Robert just gave an inconclusive grunt for a response. But inside, his mind was turning as he thought back to the old park. That was how all the trouble started...they tested the fences-never hitting the same area twice...

His thoughts were broken when Sam asked, "That reminds me; someone told me that you have some kind of pet...a dilophosaur, I think? Is that true? Or is it all just gossip?"

When the warden's thoughts turned to Squeaks, he inwardly groaned...no way could he boast about "survival of the fittest" while saving a tiny dilo from the chopping block without being a hypocrite.

Instead of answering Sam, he turned away and started back down the platform, "I'm going for a walk."

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It took the better part of an hour, but eventually, Robert had circled the entire feathered-raptor enclosure; finding no faults in the construction and overall upkeep...none that he could see, anyway.

But he didn't need his eyes to realize he was being followed.

He turned his gaze sideways to find the Tiny One walking parallel to him; blocked only by the obvious fence. She kept pace with him; turning her head away to glance at some interesting leaf any time he fully stared at her. And any time he turned his own head away, he was almost certain she was eyeing him, like some shy schoolgirl. Had he not been so concerned about past mistakes repeating themselves, he would've found it comical.

When their back and forth grew boring, the warden finally let loose a sigh and stopped; fully facing his quarry. Immediately, the Tiny One halted as well. For a few awkward seconds, human and raptor blinked at one another-steel blue eyes staring into shiny black ones...until he finally tipped his hat and said, "Lovely afternoon, isn't it?"

The Tiny One tilted her head; examining him upside down for a moment, before fluffing up her feathers.

He started to walk again, to which she did the same. After a few feet, he stopped. She did too.

He then started to purposely pace back and forth; walking backwards at random intervals, or slowing down or speeding up-doing anything to keep his moves as sporadic as possible. And yet, the entire time, she stayed with him; tripping over herself as she tried to keep up with his movements. And when he finally stopped for certain, she bounced in place-puffing out her feathers and making a strange noise that wasn't quite a growl or a gobble; just an odd noise that made it clear she was enjoying this little game of "red light/green light".

And then, suddenly, Muldoon burst out in a dead sprint; running down the length of the fence so fast that he had to hold onto his hat to keep it from blowing away. Only when his sides started to hurt did he chance looking behind him...

The Tiny One was right beside him; wings tucked in and head ducked down low for maximum aerodynamics. But every few seconds, she'd poke her face up and let out a breathless "SQUAWK!" And not so much in a threatening way, but more as if she were shouting "wait! I just wanted to talk to you!"

Robert finally slowed to a stop; puffing for air. Not surprisingly, his "friend" came to stand right in front of him. But he hardly noticed or cared; sitting down in the dirt and fanning himself with his hat. Damn, he wasn't as young as he used to be anymore.

The Tiny One, meanwhile, was able to recover much more quickly; having seemingly enjoyed that little jaunt. But as she continued to observe her human companion, her joy shifted to mild confusion...then concern. Why did the man stop? They were having so much fun! And why was he breathing so hard? Was he sick? Was he hurt? Without thinking, she dug her snout through the grating.

Muldoon was just about to get up when another loud series of squawks caught his attention. His head whipped over to discover the Tiny One had managed to slip her snout between the bars of the fence...and then, in her struggle to get loose, her entire head popped through all together, and now she found herself stuck; letting out a string of frightened caws and flapping her wings in a growing panic.

Robert cursed himself for not having his phone on him, or else he would've called Mr. Neill and the other handlers. And there was no way he was going to leave her all by herself while he ran for help; no telling if she'd find the strength to break through entirely. But while his first thoughts obviously went to the fact that he'd finally found a flaw in the enclosure, strangely enough, his overriding second thought was, "Damn turkey got herself stuck! What an idiot!"

The warden groaned as he got up; carefully trudging over to the trapped raptor, who paused a moment when she saw him approaching. Her head was stuck at a sideways angle; one eye blinking at him in pathetic desperation, as if crying, "please get me out, mister!" To that, Muldoon heavily sighed-realizing that her predicament was partly his fault to begin with.

So, after much thought (and disbelief at what he was about to do), Robert removed his fedora hat and clamped it around her mouth and face. Only when he was sure he was protected enough to not get bitten did he begin turning her neck around; trying to gently push her back through the fence. In the ensuing struggle, she began flapping and jumping around again, to which the game warden huffed, "Calm down ya' bloomin' ankle biter, I'm tryin' to help ya'!"

He twisted and pushed once...twice...and then, POP! The Tiny One was free. "Free", as in, safely back on her own side of the fence, but very much unstuck. The raptor rolled around in the dirt and ran in a circle; jumping and squawking in a fit of joy at being rescued. All the while Robert put his hat back on and shook his head at her little happy dance. It was almost funny.

...until she eventually stopped to stare at her savior for a moment. Muldoon raised a brow, "Uh...you're welcome?"

She let out a soft coo and wagged her tail, before replying with a loud, "SQUAAAWK!"

The warden rolled his eyes, "Don't be gettin' any more crazy ideas now."

He turned and walked away at long last; not wanting to play this little game any longer. He never turned to see the Tiny One sit down in her spot and watch him disappear; laying up against the fence for the rest of the afternoon until she finally fell asleep.

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Once the matter of the breach in the enclosure was taken care of (and double checking that he constantly had his phone in his vest), Muldoon stayed away from the pen for the better part of a week. Yet, his thoughts couldn't help but keep returning to the Tiny One...the way she looked at him and copied his movements almost perfectly. There was something very different about that one-that much was certain...but whether that "different" was good or bad was yet to be determined...especially when memories of that day the Big One ambushed him kept haunting him at the most unexpected times (most often, in his dreams).

So when his monthly inspection of all the park's exhibits rolled around, he made it a point to visit the feathered raptor pen first.

As the warden walked up to the entrance, he was grateful to see Sarah there as well. He did NOT want to be caught alone with these beasts again, if he could help it. He tipped his hat to her, "Morning, Miss Harding."

"Hey Robert", she greeted; not looking up from scribbling on her clipboard, "Lemme' guess; inspection?"

"You'd be right", he nodded; noticing her distracted expression, "Somethin' got your goat?"

The vet let out a puff of air, "They're considering changing the name of the 'other' raptor pen to the 'Utahraptor Enclosure'..." She shook her head, "Owen ain't happy."

Muldoon chuckled, "Why am I not surprised?"

Sarah rolled her eyes, "Some people just can't accept change, I guess, especially when you've been used to the same thing for so long."

Robert considered her words, but said nothing. After a brief silence, Harding turned to him, "Speaking of names, did Sam tell you he's been naming the new raptors?"

"No, he didn't", the warden began his inspection; marching around the perimeter of the enclosure; the vet right beside him. When the jungle within emptied out into a field, he paused to gander at the four beasts in question. The three golden ones were in the middle of snacking on a pig they caught; their alpha defensively prancing around-head held high.

"Well Walnut looks like she's in a mood today", Sarah remarked.

Now Muldoon was befuddled, "...say who?"

"The black and red one-that's Walnut", Harding explained as she pointed to the alpha, "Sam says it's because she's a hard nut to crack." She subsequently motioned to the yellow trio, "And that's Honey, Vanilla, and Sunny."

Robert nearly laughed at such 'cute' names being attached to such fearsome predators...but he was more concerned about the one who, once again, was absent, "Where's the Tiny One?"

Now it was the vet's turn to be confused, "Who?"

"That brown and white one-the Tiny One", Muldoon asked, "Where is she?"

Realization dawned on the woman, and she shrugged, "I don't know. I thought she was there a minute ago."

A loud barrage of familiar squawks got their attention, and the two turned to see the raptor in question flapping about on the ground a few yards away from the pack. Quickly, both handlers jogged over to see what all the fuss was...and the warden held back a groan. The Tiny One had gotten stuck...AGAIN. Only this time, it was her foot that had become entangled in the protective netting between the inner and outer layers of fence (a feature that had been added on Robert's insistence).

Sarah gasped and made a move to dial her phone, "Oh no, the little one's trapped!"

"Wouldn't be the first time", the game warden sighed as he walked up; folding his arms, "Well, we meet again. Got yourself in a bind again, didn't you?"

At hearing the man's voice, the Tiny One cieced struggling and stared up at him; seemingly figuring out who was talking to her. It was that guy again! Who played those silly games with her before! All at once, she calmed down; her only movements being wiggling her foot, as if saying, "Uh, a little help here?"

Just as Harding was dialing for Sam, Muldoon held up a hand, "Hold on a tick. Let's not cause a scene if we don't have to."

With that, the warden bent down; gently reaching in and pulling at the netting-untangling the Tiny One's claws a section at a time. Only when she started panicking did he speak, and in a calming tone, "S'alright...we'll get ya' free."

This time, the raptor seemed to understand that he meant her no harm, and promptly held still. Within a minute, the netting was pulled loose, and the Tiny One got up; launching into another one of her little 'happy dances'. Robert brushed himself off and adjusted his hat, "Don't think I'm gonna' be around to save you ALL the time, ya' goofball." He then turned to Sarah, "Does SHE have a name yet?"

But Harding didn't catch his question. She was not only too shocked at how easily and quietly the warden handled the situation (or how the Tiny One cooperated), but at how the rest of the pack lazily carried on eating their catch of the day-paying both their sister and the humans virtually no mind at all. Eventually, the vet voiced her concerns, "I don't get it...she was clearly crying for help...why didn't any of them come over?"

Muldoon said nothing; not knowing how to answer her (or if he even wanted to). As the Tiny One preened herself, he muttered, "...maybe we should call that one 'Derpy'..."

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The warden arrived at the enclosure one afternoon to find Owen staring into the pen; watching his 'rival' gang of raptors with a frown. He came to stand next to the younger man; wondering what he was thinking, but choosing to stay quiet. He knew Grady would vent in due time...and sure enough, the trainer finally mumbled, "...they put a new sign on my pen...the squad are officially 'Utahraptors' now..."

"And what did you say to them?" Robert asked; eyebrow raised.

"Nothin'..." Owen folded his arms, "...I tore it down."

His elder smirked, "I take it you were in the same group that hated it when Pluto wasn't a planet anymore?"

Grady sighed in frustration, "But it IS a planet! And they fixed their mistake!"

"Well, they did the same thing here", Muldoon calmly explained, "They realized they were calling something the wrong thing, and they fixed it." He fixed the trainer with a knowing look, "I think you've got your knickers in too much of a twist over this whole thing. Names can be important, yes...but listen; is the squad suddenly going to be any different or act different now?"

Owen scratched his head, "...no."

"Then what's the big deal?" the warden shrugged, "Frankly, at this point, I could care less what they're called, and more in what mischief they get up to."

With that, he turned his attention towards the cage...and nearly jumped back in surprise. The Tiny One was standing right in front of him; having seemingly appeared out of nowhere with the silence of a ninja. Even Owen held back a small gasp, then squinted when he saw the raptor wasn't empty handed, "Uh...hey...whatcha' got there, buddy?"

Clamped in her mouth, and dangling by its tail, was a decently-sized white rat. She plopped it on the ground and ruffled her feathers; head held high as if saying, "Look what I got! And I caught it aaalll by myself!"

"Well, looks like you caught yourself a juicy one, there..." Robert spoke in an amused tone, "Better eat it before Walnut takes it."

She bent down to pick it up, to which both handlers averted their eyes. Not that that sort of thing grossed them out, but no one exactly wanted to watch a rat being eaten.

...but when she let out a loud SQUAWK, they both turned back to find her holding the oversized mouse by the tail again; waddling up to the fence and dropping it closer to them. When they didn't react, she tried again; picking it up and tossing it in Muldoon's general direction-wagging her tail and looking up at him expectedly.

Although the warden pretty much figured it out, it was Owen who gave voice to his thoughts, "...I think she wants you to take it." He glanced at his elder with surprise, "I think she's giving you a present."

As if to emphasize his point, the Tiny One pushed her catch against the fence with her snout; chirping a pleasant little humming sound; her eyes clearly saying, "For you!"

Robert blinked at the sheer absurdity of it all. What WAS it with this raptor that it had this weird fixation on him? He had half a mind to walk away and never come back.

...and yet...those sad and hopeful, beady little eyes just kept staring right into his soul; pleading for him to accept her gift. And somehow, his instincts told him she might have tried this stunt with her own pack first, only to get the shaft.

So, with that in mind, Muldoon sighed and bent down; praying this wasn't a trap of some sort. But thankfully, the Tiny One made no sudden moves as he quickly reached through the bars and snatched up the rat; holding it up for her to see. Although she didn't make a sound, her mouth opened wide in an almost-smile and her tail thumped the ground; kicking up a cloud of dirt.

Owen's eyes darted between man and beast, before he leaned in and whispered to the game warden, "You have to eat it."

"What?!" Robert whisper-shouted back.

"I had to do this back when the squad was little", Grady explained, "To gain their trust...if they ever gave me stuff, that is. She might get mad if you don't take it. Just...pretend you're eating it or something. Make her happy."

Muldoon nearly face palmed; hoping to God that no one else was around to see this. Cupping his hands and turning slightly, he made a show of making loud munching sounds; acting as if the rat were the best thing he ever ate. With the precision of a magician, he slyly slid the mouse into one of his vest pockets, before turning back around and presenting his empty hands; patting his belly, "Mmm...that was SO good...thank you?"

The Tiny One jumped up and down; cooing happily and flapping her wings, before disappearing back into the bushes. The second she was gone, the warden turned on his heel and nearly sprinted away. No doubt she was running off to go and fetch him something else, and he did NOT want to stick around to see what it was.

Owen caught up with him in no time; holding back his laughter, "I think she likes you."

"Really? You THINK?" Robert's voice was dripping with sarcasm.

"What's so bad about that?" Grady teased, "Think Squeaks'll be jealous of your new girlfriend?"

"One more word, and I'm feeding you to the Old Lady", Muldoon's face flushed in a mix of anger and embarrassment.

The trainer knew very well the warden might just make do on that threat, and he had no desire to be T-rex chow. He put his hands up defensively and sauntered away, "Fine, fine...later, man."

But Owen couldn't stop his giggling, to which Robert stormed off in the opposite direction; wanting to get as far from the teasing as possible. He already had Squeaks; one attachment was risky enough. He didn't need another creature pining for his attention, much less a RAPTOR.

...but a few minutes later, he remembered he still had the rat in his vest pocket. He pulled it out and held it in his palms; staring at the Tiny One's 'gift' for a long time. Obviously, he couldn't keep it, to which he tossed it in the nearest trash bin and kept walking...and for some reason, he felt very bad about doing that.

.

.

.

One day, Muldoon was making his usual rounds of the park, when his phone began ringing off the hook. He pulled it out of his pocket and casually answered, "Robert here."

"Hello?! It's Owen!" Grady's panicked voice yelled on the other end, "We got a code 93!"

All at once, the warden's heart froze. Code 93 was the one word no one wanted to hear...an animal had escaped. Immediately, he quickened his pace, "Where are you right now?"

"Just leaving the raptor pen", Grady sounded like he was running, "The feathered kind, I mean. One of the pack managed to get loose!"

Now Muldoon was in a full sprint; his course set, "How?!"

"I'm not sure", the trainer tried to explain between his heavy breathing, "From what Sam told me, he and one of the vets had to go in to give the pack a checkup. But one of them managed to overpower him and slip out before the gates closed!"

"Is he okay?" the warden asked.

"Actually, yeah; he's fine", Owen couldn't mask his surprise, "He wasn't exactly attacked, just...one of them started flapping around and making a scene, and he got too startled to close the door in time!"

At that point, Robert was less interested in HOW the escape happened (he could learn the nitty gritty later), but more in WHERE their quarry was at the moment, "Do you know which way she went?"

"Lowery's trying to get a reading on her GPS chip right now..." Grady suddenly paused when there came the noise of his own cell phone ringing in the background. No doubt, the computer expert was calling him right that moment to give him a location. There was a full minute where the warden was put on hold; having to sit through the chorus of "Come and Get Your Love" while he waited with a growing anxiety. Thank God for modern technology and the tracking microchips they inserted into all the animals...if this had happened in the old park...

Suddenly, the song cut out, to which Muldoon didn't even wait for an answer, "Well? You got a location?"

When Owen got back on the line, his voice had calmed down considerably, yet was an odd mixture of fear and confusion...and a hint of amusement, "Uh...Robert? Be careful coming back to your house...I think you got a visitor."

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.

.

.

.

The warden had commandeered the nearest dune buggy and hightailed it back to his "apartment" of sorts...that being the ruins of the old visitor center. Over time, he had spruced the place up; transforming it from a desolate graveyard into a relatively cozy house...that also happened to be built like a bunker in case of any more dinosaur attacks. The second he pulled up to the steps, he didn't need Owen's warning to know something was wrong. The front door was wide open, and, as he jumped off the bike and got closer, claw marks were clearly visible on the handle. No doubt the raptor wasn't strong enough to break the door down completely, but was determined enough to mess with the handle until it finally broke loose. And there were a few feathers dotted around...very familiar brown and white feathers...

Muldoon immediately pulled out his side arm as he carefully ventured inside; expecting something to come jumping out at him at any moment. He was NOT about to be taken off guard again...he was NOT going to see a repeat of the Big One. Especially not in his own home.

As he slowly made his way around the house, he had to hold back his frustration. The main living area was all in tatters. Thankfully, it appeared that none of his more treasured belongings were damaged...heck, it looked like none of his stuff was even touched...it was the HUGE mess on the floor that gave him pause. Apparently, his visitor decided to pig out on all the contents of his fridge, and though most of it was meat, the girl clearly wasn't a picky eater. He stepped around the trail that was left-encountering slices of cheese with the corners bitten off; a bag of potato chips with a huge hole in it; a smashed jar of pickles; a wrapper from an eight pack of hot dogs (no doubt eaten); a spilled container of left over vegetable soup; bits of raw steak and hamburger meat (no sign of their packages)...

...and another white rat.

As he rounded the next corner, his heart jumped to his throat. A lump of something was moving around under a blanket in the doggy bed he had set up for Squeaks...and it was surrounded by a pool of blood.

With measured steps, he kept his gun trained on the mysterious creature with one hand; reaching out with his other hand to snatch away the blanket...

...only to find his pet dilophosaur staring up at him with her big, yellow eyes; shivering in fear.

Immediately, Robert lowered the gun and breathed a sigh of immense relief. He didn't know what he'd do if something happened to her. Now curious, he re-examined the "blood"; realizing it didn't smell right. A dip of his fingers then told him it was nothing more than spaghetti sauce.

Suddenly, a loud crash made both him and Squeaks whip their heads up at the noise. It was coming from the kitchen. Leaving the dilophosaur alone for the moment, Muldoon re-leveled his pistol and snuck into the pantry as quietly as possible...and when he saw what it was, he let out a groan; relaxing only slightly.

There was the Tiny One; rolling around in a sea of food-the refrigerator wide open and completely empty. She was struggling because her head was currently buried in a cereal box. He tapped his foot like a stern parent and cleared his throat, "YOU again?"

Upon hearing his voice, the raptor poked her head out the other end of the box; Fruit Loops flying everywhere in a multicolored explosion. The second she caught sight of him, she flapped her wings and let out a happy, "SQUAAWK!"

"Yeah, nice to see you too", the warden huffed, "And you're in BIG trouble, young lady."

As if on cue, he picked up the sound of more vehicles skidding to a stop in front of his house. Backup had finally arrived. He doubted he really needed it, however, for the Tiny One was content to continue munching on the spilt cereal; the box still wrapped around her neck. Just has he was holstering his pistol and pulling out a pocket knife, Owen appeared around the corner; his own gun drawn. But when he saw his friend was unharmed, and, shockingly, leaning against the dinner table and watching the odd little spectacle, he lowered his weapon, "You okay?"

"Nice of you to join us", Muldoon pushed off from the table and calmly leaned over; using his knife to cut the box off his guest. She seemed thankful for the relief, but kept on eating.

A second later, Mr. Neill came barreling in; out of breath. As soon as he took in the entire scene, he sighed, "Oh, thank God you're all okay! Mr. Muldoon, I'm SO sorry about all this! I'll pay for anything she broke! I don't know why she would do this! I-"

Robert waved his hands for him to calm down; yelling over the man's shouts, "Sam, it's okay! IT'S OKAY! Everything is okay!" As soon as everyone shut up, the warden glanced at his house guest, "Apparently, the Tiny One was making up for all those times she missed a meal. I'll have to swing by the market later...after I do some cleaning up first."

He promptly scooped up the raptor with no effort at all; carrying her out of the room under one arm. To everyone's amazement, she put up no fuss whatsoever. In fact, now that she was full, she seemed perfectly content to let the man carry her. His two friends followed him out; Sam scratching his head, "But we're so far away from the pen...what would bring her all the way out here?"

"Isn't it obvious?" a new voice piped up. The trio turned to see Sarah had also arrived; her arms folded in wry amusement when she noticed that everyone was unharmed, "Animals can be unpredictable, but even they have reasons for lashing out. And I don't believe in coincidence...there were all sorts of places she could've gone for food between here and there...but she came HERE with a purpose."

At the same time, everyone turned their eyes on the game warden, who didn't like where this was headed, "...what?"

Harding couldn't hide the knowing smile creeping on her face, "Come on, Robert...you've worked with animals longer than any of us...you know what I'm talking about."

He pointed at himself in disbelief, "...ME?"

"She's not much of a fighter, but she can certainly track a person, especially when it's one she likes", the vet hypothesized as she examined the raptor, "For how much we can control and create around here, sometimes, the gene pool just throws you a wild card...and this one apparently got more of the turkey genes in her than the vulture. She may be clumsy, but she's also the most pleasant out of her pack..." She stared up at Robert, "...and for whatever reason, she took a shine to you."

Now Muldoon was completely baffled. It wasn't that he was unfamiliar with a creature bonding with its handler-far from it...but he WASN'T her handler. He frequently visited her enclosure, yes, but it wasn't like he was there every day. He blinked in befuddlement, "But...why?"

"Sometimes, they don't need a complicated reason", Owen explained; scratching his chin, "You helped her get out of that fence at couple times. I guess girls really DO like it when a knight in khaki shorts comes to save them." He chuckled, "It's like YOU once said...'they remember'..."

"So...you mean...she imprinted on HIM?" Mr. Neill couldn't hide his disbelief, "Well THAT'S just great. Mr. Muldoon can't stay with her all the time; he's got his own stuff to do. And what about ME? Assuming I still even have a job after this, how am I gonna' get her to listen to me? We can't have her pulling another stunt like this."

"Try not to worry, man; it was all an accident. It could've happened to anyone, and no one got hurt", Owen patted him on the shoulder; trying to reassure him, "If the rest of the pack listens to you, then you're definitely sticking around. As for HER...I think she's decided where she wants to be."

"What are you suggesting? That she live HERE?" Sam's eyes widened incredulously, "Are you nuts? Do you know all the sort of things that could go wrong?!"

"Well, she was in a secure pen, and look what happened", Sarah argued, "Things could go wrong in even the supposedly safest of places. What's the difference?"

Mr. Neill shook his head, "Even so, she should be with her pack; this isn't normal!"

"Dude, the pack made it clear they didn't want her", Owen let out a breath, "She's not only going to be sad in that pen, she might not survive." He spread his arms, "And look around; we work at a park where scientists can conjure up dinosaurs. How is ANY of this normal?"

Sam found it hard to argue that logic. Muldoon, on the other hand, was overwhelmed at all these people discussing the future of a raptor that he wasn't even sure he wanted to keep, no matter how polite it was. At long last, he spoke up, "But what about Squeaks?"

"Another dinosaur that wouldn't harm a soul on this island", Harding smiled, "You did a pretty good job raising her. I know you could do it again. And besides, she could've eaten her, but didn't." She motioned to the raptor in his arms, "We have a very unique opportunity here; of man bonding with beast...I wouldn't waste it...you should keep her."

"But she's..." Robert's words died in his mouth as he glanced down at the feathery bundle. The Tiny One had readjusted herself so she was sitting more comfortably in his arms; watching him expectedly...again, with those big, doe-like eyes...eyes that reflected nothing but pure affection for the man holding her.

And in that moment, the warden realized that his prejudice towards her was wrong...she was most certainly NOT the Big One...nor would she ever be. Instead of images of those hungry, yellow slits for eyes, all he saw was a runt of the litter who was rejected for the only reason of being too friendly.

Her tongue felt like sandpaper as she licked him on the cheek, then burrowed her face in the crook of his arm.

His decision made, he deflated like a balloon, "...she's a Muldoon."

Both Sarah and Owen smirked, while Sam rolled his eyes and stepped over the mess, grumbling, "Okay...it's your funeral..."

As he left the house, Owen turned to the warden, "So...whatcha' gonna' call her? She still doesn't have a name."

As the warden stroked her back, the Tiny One let out a soft and content, "SQUAWK..."

Robert allowed himself a tiny smile, "...I think she just named herself."


End file.
